


A Dom for Hire (40) No Experience Necessary/Bring Your Own Toys

by Radiumkind



Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: AU, Age Play, D/s, Daddy Kink, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pony Play, role play
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-01-27 08:19:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12577600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Radiumkind/pseuds/Radiumkind
Summary: Howard Moon is a 40(ahem)ish single dad with 16 year old son.  He lives in a council flat, in debt, with a career in music industry that's going nowhere.  One day, he finds an article about a guy who changed his career at middle age to become a pro-Dom, and decides that's as good a way to make money as what he's doing now.*This is a work in progress, and as such it may get edited or taken down briefly post-publish.  Sorry about that.*





	1. Nothing to Lose

When Howard found that article in a crumpled culture magazine, which he’d indignantly nicked from the BBC waiting room, he was riding a metro back from a failed audition.  Apparently, some geezer in America had found a second wind in his career by becoming a “Daddy” dom at age forty, making more money than he ever did while he worked at an insurance firm--and to be honest he wasn’t a looker either.  Howard was neither vain nor self conscious about his looks but, really, this guy?  Phew!  A face that can sink a thousand ships.  If this minger can make a living as a bona fide prozzy, why can’t he?  Besides, Dan, his sixteen year old son, was already disappointed with Howard from having to turn the lights out and keep quiet whenever loansharks came a knocking at their door.  

Truly, he had nothing to lose, thus the feelers were sent out via Lester Corncrake: who phoned Bob Fossil; who got in touch with Bainbridge(and left a salacious message that ended with 3 full minutes of heavy breathing at the end) who had found someone called Naboo, who knew a Tony Harrison that could introduce Howard to the “scene.”  When Howard called Lester to thank him, the blind record repair man exclaimed: “Tony Harrison!?  Shit, I coulda told’you about him!--I’ve known Tony since I studied under Michael “Hornmouth” Bouvier and we used to make sweet, sweeet loooove together under the porch after jam sessions.  Those silky Louisiana mud rubbin’--” 

“Yup.  Thanks Lester, bye!” Howard disconnected the call before anymore North American sediments were introduced to the old man’s buttocks.    

As he anxiously twisted his wrist, Howard waited for a train to Dalston the next day. 

 

* * *

 

“Na-Booty-Q: Fetish Gear and...Fortunetelling?” 

Fetish gear and peep show may have been more appropriate, thought Howard, and amused what was at the junction of subversive sexual artifacts and clairvoyance.  This type of incongruent marketing normally irritated the Leeds man, but curiosity and financial necessity brought him in  front of the barred glass door.  He did a look around for unrequited attention by the public, then entered the shop.  

To compliment this shop would be to compliment the aesthetic of a rat’s nest.  Rows and rows of merchandize were clustered from floor to ceiling, creating an illusion of irregular, mostly black and red, padded walls.  They left the paths so narrow there was no way Howard can walk through to the back without brushing both of his shoulders.  He turned on his side to move forward, then caught a sight of very leather clad model on a package.  Howard cleared his throat louder than he’d expected. 

“What d’you want?” A diminutive man in a costume reminiscent of _Alexander: The Man Who Knows_ suddenly peered through a barricade of merchandise, giving Howard a fright. 

“Er...um..ah...erm, yes, well, sir...I’ma..er here to see a, er...Naboo?--My name is Howard Moon?”

“Oh, you’re the ball bag looking for Tony?” said Naboo in a voice like the suave, arid sands of the Sahara. 

With gruffness he replied “Ah...yes.  Less of the ball bag...but yes.  I’m Howard.” The nervousness must have shown, Naboo softened his expression and instructed Howard to follow him. 

Howard was led up the creaking staircase to a flat that was dimly lit and decorated in style that could only be described as...flammable.  The room was dangerously appointed with open flame, sixties avocado swag lamp, a few Moroccan lanterns, suspended chotchkies and layers of rich, synthetic fabrics.   He was sure for a moment he saw himself flailing, covered in fire, a la _Fanny and Alexander._   

The shaman gestured Howard sit on the ottoman; he then commanded sagely, “Look into the crystal ball.”

“...You mean the laptop?”

“...Yeah.” The so-called shaman clicked on the ubiquitous video call app as he drew a drag from his hooka.  The familiar dial tone filled the room.

“TAKE IT! TAKE IT YOU SLAAAAAAG!!! OOOOHHHH!--hang on, I got a viddy call...HELLOO?” 

On the other side of the ‘crystal ball’ was a pink...man? In leather mask with some sort of tendril like collar around his neck.  His voice was nasal and he flashed a yellow toothed grin.  

“Hello, son, who the _hell_ are you?”

“Tony, you plum, this is Howard Moon.  Remember, I called yesterday bout ‘im?  The geezer who wants to get in with your depraved scene?” Naboo censured.

“Oh! I remember! Hello, Howard Moon!  Nice to meet’ya, old man. How can I help you?”

Howard took a few moments to collect himself, then spoke: “Er, yes, I’m looking to become a 'dom' and...how would one go about monetizing this?  I’ve never done this kind of thing before...”

“You came to the right man for the job my friend! The H-man-- _what?  What is it Mrs. Harrison?...Yeah, this might take a while--sorry bout that, darlin’...Yeah, take-out’s all right--_ Now...where were we?”

“You were saying you were the right man for the job?”

“Ohh, yes! I can teach you so much, my friend! I can lead you to the beautiful world of BDSM. It’s not for the faint of heart, old man, are you up for the journey?”

Howard hesitated, he wasn’t sure if he was up for the journey.  And to be honest, he was faint-hearted.  He didn’t consider this being something he wouldn’t like.  It sounded good at first, but was he really, really ready? 

“WELL?”--Tony and Naboo demanded.

“Yes. Yup.”  

Howard T.J. Moon is a man of action, he thought to himself, and he reckoned men of action often didn’t think things through.

 

* * *

 

When Vince found the invite in his post, he was coming home giddy after a successful meeting at Channel 4 for his new TV show.  The invite was for a new fetish club called _Life in Bonds_.

“Yeah, yeah, I got this invite to this new club yeah? _Life in Bonds_?  That’s the one, but I’m not sure about this...it’s well kinky, like, get me a few outfits and I’ll take a look at it tonight.” Vince hung up the call with his agent.   

Upon examining outfits delivered by his agent--they were too skimpy, too dull or too kinky, Vince frantically texted Leroy and, after an hour of “no way’s,” Vince called Leroy to beg.

“You HAVE to come with me Leroy!” Vince was frantic.  “Wot? _You’re_ insane, Leroy!  Fetish is _well_ in--just read the latest Cheekbone, ya numpty! And Daddy and Mummy kink is the hottest thing right now!”  Vince exclaimed, adding that Jean-Paul Jacquettie was making an appearance, meaning that Vince had to go with his posse to look enticing for the fashion mogul.  He could not go alone, the telly star pleaded to Leroy; that would be a social suicide.  

Going to a themed party required a knack for surprise so one didn’t end up wearing the same thing as other guests.  The lolita look that’s storming up the shores of Europe, via Asia via Europe, was out of question; he wanted to maintain the signature androgyny.  Vince coaxed Leroy to launch a campaign of sneaky, backstabber's phone tree to find out what Vectra, Mama Zoom and Jacques was going to wear.  The sleuthing yielded Vince with reliable information that Mama Zoom and Vectra were going with leather and tights numbers a la Betty Paige and Jacques was going all lolita with frills, pinnies, mary-janes and bunches.  Vince was so determined to stand out that he took to his sewing machine.  

 

* * *

 

After checking the coat in, Howard nervously walked in to the club with Tony Harrison slung by his shoulder in a leather papoose. This was one of the last things Tony wanted to do to complete Howard's fetish education. 

“This here’s my apprentice, Howard.  Howard, these are my scene friends--good people. Howard here’s interested in becoming a pro-dom.”

“Really?  What are you into? Hardcore? Women only?”  A middle aged woman named Eleanor, clad in black leather and feather boa, piped in.  She'd been eyeing Howard ever since the pair joined a group of Tony's friends.

“Um...I’m undecided I guess. I don’t really like to hit people, so, maybe soft...and I'm thinking of doing this as a gig so...I'm open with...er...gender--but I prefer top.”  

“Well, I for one, am interested!  Do you have a website?”

“Er...No, not yet.”  Shit, he didn’t even think about making a website. “I have a card.”  His old friend Leroy pulled through when Howard begged him to make them discreetly at his employment.

“Heeere’s my card, pumpkin.  Weeelll...I’ll be calling, you, tiger!”  Eleanor mimed biting Howard, kicked up her heel and trotted away. 

When Howard decided to become a Dom, he had this idea that his clientele would be bookish, single women--looking for father-like figure, a mature, classy man with depth and so much to give--who, hopefully, loved jazz... He did not think that, perhaps, this was far from reality.  He turned to the rest of Tony's friends as he stashed away Eleanor’s card in the hidden pocket of his outfit. 

“Howard’s on a journey, my friends--I hope you’ll be kind to ‘im. The power play is a varied game, Howard, but you’ll eventually find your passion.  Ohhh, look!  Dennis, you bastard, come ‘ere!! Howard, take me to Dennis!”  The faithful apprentice carried his cephalopod instructor towards a bald giant.

 

* * *

 

The room was packed full of hardcore scene goers and curious trendies; many looking to find a new partner or a contact.  Vince saw a pink head with tentacles being carried by a tall mustachioed freak.  The tall man caught Vince's eyes immediately.  He was wearing an awful corduroy number that made him look like a hairless cow wrapped in belts.  His hair was obviously dyed, along with his beard and brows.  The messy hair was at that awkward length, and slicked back.   The tall man’s attention to the aging parts of his body didn't seem to match the packaging of this man's lanky, but pudgy, body.  

Agh!  Vince couldn't keep watching him.  So, he turned his attention to others for a while.  He caught up with his mates and signed a few autographs for fans.  His eyes locked with a few pretty, and very naughty looking, twinks--but he did't engage with them long, lest he’d give a wrong impression.  

Vince couldn't indulge in anything since he'd been under the spotlight.  The stardom was his lifelong dream, and it meant he couldn't leave his apartment without paparazzi taking his pictures and girls screaming to get a selfie with him.  He knew he was going to be famous one day--initially, a pop star like Brian Ferry.  The weekly fashion segment was a hit, and every magazine wanted to feature him. 

The shining starlet entered the dance floor, and everyone turned to gawk at him.  It looked like he was the only one donning the bondage gear of the future--it felt good.  He ventured in to the crowd as everyone vied for his attention.  

 

* * *

  
Howard was blinded.  Literally blinded, and so was many other club goers when an idiot clad in holographic suit waltzed in under the mirror ball--absolutely covered in rhinestones.  There were strands of beads flowing out of his bum, like he had a seltzer suppository.  He seemed to flounce about chatting with everyone, like they’re all his friends and he’s what they’ve been waiting for.  What a berk.

“Hey, Howard, why don’t you plop me down here with me mates and you venture out on your own?  Talk to other kinksters, get yourself acquainted, eh?”

Papoose undone and his instructor gingerly plonked on a booth table, the corduroy newbie turned to the crowd.  This was it.  The first test!  Howard psyched himself, he was going to make friends, get work and pay off those tossers--then he and Dan would be free.  Dan was going to be so proud of Howard!

“Oi, watch those rapist eyes, son!  Remember, _Rapy Good While At Play; Rapy Bad Any Other Way!_ ” Tony sang; Howard blushed and shuffled off in to the crowd.

 

* * *

 

“Ow!!”  

“Shit! I’m so sorry!!” 

“Watch it, you jack o’ clubs! You’re stepping on my gems!!”

“I’m terribly sorry about that.”  Howard was mortified by this faux pas, what idiot steps on someone’s...plug?  He had a long way to go in this profession. 

Seeing Howard’s dread, Vince took a placating tone: “...Well, s’alright, I guess...it didn’t come out,” he mumbled as he checked over his bottom.   

“Um...You have diamonds coming out of your arse.”  Howard spewed before realizing and covered his mouth to suppress a snigger.  Vince looked affronted at the comment, then, seeing humor in this stranger’s words, cackled.   

“Genius innit? Genuine ones, too, from Sierra Leone.  I thought I was gettin’ the red ones ‘cos me mates said they’re ‘blood diamonds’, you know?  Like them oranges?”

Howard looked askance at the luminous young man. “I think that probably meant something else.  Besides, it would have looked like you had tremendous piles.”  

“Yeah, it turned out alright in the end.” Vince beamed, not detecting the contempt in Howard’s reply. 

 

* * *

 

The odd couple walked over to the bar.  

The younger man studied this stranger carefully--at a foot away, he can really see how the angle of his forehead mimicked the slope of the man's tremendous nose.  The forehead met the soft hairline, then Vince trailed his eyes down to the man's temple, where he could see the shorter tufts flicked, like small wings of a sparrow.  The starlet followed that hairline over and down the large, nibble-inducing, earlobe.  The fluffy light strands got thick and curly where his hair turned into side burns.  A neatly combed mustache framed the fleshy, sensuous and calligraphic lips, that was set back from his very tall nose, but when when one faced the tall man, it was all consuming.  Vince felt like being eaten just looking at them.

His eyes were small and, there were crows feet that swirled and connected to the neatly combed brows.  When he looked at Vince quizzically, this guy's left eyebrow quirked, the forehead wrinkled.  There was this suspicious attitude about him that Vince found incredibly amusing.  

"Can I help you?" Howard asked.  The shiny tit was inexplicably trained on Howard, and it was obvious the northerner was very uncomfortable. 

"Oh, nothin'." Vince couldn't be seen staring at a fashion disaster like this guy...but he felt there was a very handsome man underneath all the corduroy and pomade.  A man who looked reliable and gentle and caring.  A man he'd like to try cuddling with...may even kiss...and...

Vince shook his head to dispel these thoughts.  He couldn't possibly be seen staring at a man like this!

So Vince, as though it was something he’d just remembered, said, “It’s actually a butt plug.” 

“ _Is it_?” Howard retorted, disbelieving the frankness of this man.

“Yeah, it’s pretty genius.  Hard to sit though.” Vince shifted on the bar seat to get more comfortable.

“I can imagine.” _Jesus, he really has no filter_ \--Howard was contemplating an exit strategy when the sparkling young man asked: “So, what brings you to this place?”

Kicking himself for stepping on Vince’s diamond butt plug, Howard replied:  “I’m here to get acquainted with the scene so I can start working as a dom, soon”

“Oh. Cool.”

“How about you?”

“I’m just here for the press.  I have to make appearances at a trendy place like this or I’ll lose my cred, you know?”

“So...you are active in the scene?”

“Oh no! Don’t be ridiculous!  I’m just here ‘cos this is what’s fashionable at the moment?  I do a TV show all about what’s hot and trendy yeah? _Vince Noir’s Vogue Boudoir_? I’m sure you already knew that.”   

“I’m Howard Moon: Explorer/Jazz Maverick, and I’m afraid I didn’t know that.  You’re on telly?” 

“Yeah!” For the first time since the embarrassing meeting, Vince truly seemed offended. 

“You know, THE _Vince Noir’s Vogue Boudoir_?  The new style show on Channel 4? Rated #1 TV show in UK by Cheekbone _and_ NME, 5 months straight!”

“Not ringing any bells, sorry.” Howard shrugged apologetically.

“I don’t believe this!  I’ve never met anyone who didn’t know me before!!”

Vince looked away for a second, fuming, then: “but I guess that figures lookin’ at you; who wears cords to a bondage club?”

“How dare you insult my cords!” Howard exclaimed. “They give off warm, reliable air that I hope to become the selling point of my practice.  It’s a sexy daddy look!”   

Vince shook his head and quirked his lips to contain a laughter. 

“Cut-out cords shouldn’t be a thing; it’s disturbing rather than reliable _or sexy._   What those holes suggest, Howard, is that you’re a homeless person.  There’s nothin’ sadder than cords with holes.”

“Well, I’m still experimenting, aren’t I?" Howard snapped. “Thank you for your opinion, sir, but I happen to think it’s a dynamite look.  What’s with your get up any ways?  A stalactite anal plug?  A diamond clustered cat suit?”

“How very dare you!” Vince ejaculated. “Diamonds are harder than anything you see in this room.  My diamonds can kick your stainless steel stud’s butt!  You’ll find that all the cool kids in London will be wearing this tomorrow!”

Howard imagined this and gave a small shudder.  

“Oi, Vince!”  The shiny fashionista turned to see his friends waving him over.

“I better get going...my mates are callin'.”

“Oh...all right, it was nice to meet you, Vince Noir...Telly Star.”  Vince felt soft inside as he watched the clumsy countenance of this tall stranger, and said: “See you later Howard Moon, Colon Explorer; check out my show and follow me on twitter, yeah? You might learn somethin.” The younger man flashed a cheeky smile. 

“Might do; when I have a spare moment...”  

“Genius.”

With a strange warm feeling in his chest, Howard stared at the bejeweled bum of the stranger as he walked away...

“Wait a minute...did he say...” Howard made a mental note to formulate a biting come back in case he saw that ethereal telly man again.

 


	2. Mr. Trombone and the Dad Bod

Eleanor had followed through with an appointment within the fortnight.  She was quite attractive, sort of like Raquel Welch in her hay day, but looked sort of like a man in a certain light.  For a first time dom, a client like Eleanor may have been a bit too advanced, but Howard bravely fulfilled the contract each night; he ‘pounded her like a yesterday’s beef’ (her request), fondled her balls (wait, what) in the most ‘biggest, dirtiest ways’, and did things with his old shoe that made him secretly swear never to look at it again.   

“Howard, you are a _God_.” Eleanor lit a fag and gently caressed his cheeks with a silk scarf.  

“Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

The second client, Gregg, was exponentially more exotic than Eleanor.  They seemed deranged, and smelled oddly of fish--but the worst thing wasn’t the fact that they filled a tub with bailey’s and bathed Howard in it.  

Nor, the fact that they made Howard drink said Bailey’s from a shoe (the same one?).  

Nor, the fact that they insisted on painting watercolors of the pair having rough sex.  

Nor, the fact that he tried to feed him raw fish and, when Howard said his safe word, they threatened to kill him, stuff him, and mount him on his wall.

What ended it was the fact that they stalked Howard for a week after; left insane texts and voicemails, and showed up at Howard’s day gigs.  After Gregg had followed Howard to another session with Eleanor, blind drunk, and asked him if he loved them, the session ended abruptly with Eleanor pulling out a gun.  Police was called by the frightened bellhop, and Howard narrowly escaped arrest.  A day after, Gregg left a human finger in a presentation box, tied in a cute ribbon, on his beloved’s doorstep.  

Howard called the police.  

It was a good thing Dan was staying at his mom’s that weekend.   Howard had cleaned up the mess and made sure his son did not get a wind of it.

 

* * *

 

Though it was a traumatic prelude to his new venture, Howard did smile widely when he saw something more than ‘zero funds’ on his bank account.  A lot more.

Dan was bewildered when Howard asked him if he wanted to go shopping for new shoes.  Howard never took Dan out for shopping.  His father didn’t like shopping for clothes-- _and_ he never had any money.  Dan was suspicious.  

“Where did you get all this money?" 

“I got a new job.”

“Doing what?”

“Who are you, my mother?”

“I’m just curious.”

“It’s a...music therapy. You know, you play music with the vulnerable population of this unforgiving city.”

“Really?  You don’t need qualifications for that?”

“No...not really.  There’s a...a real counselor that I work with.”

“Ah." 

“So? Do you want new trainers or not?”

“Alright.  Can we take Jones along?”

Howard was hesitant.  Jones was a good friend of Dan’s but he tended to be...well...unpredictable. 

“Sure. Only if you promise you’ll mind him.”

“I will.”

 

* * *

 

“LOOK, DAN! It’s Vince Noir! Genius!”

Jones pulled Dan towards the crowd on Oxford Street.  The celebrity TV star was taping his show live, pulling the passersby to talk about their fashion.   

“Maybe he’ll pick me, yeah?” 

“I doubt it.”

“I’m gonna go talk to ‘im!  Vince! VINCE!  I LOVE YOU!”

 

Vince looked to where the voice was coming from, spotting none other than the mustachioed freak from the club.  Howard turned around and pretended to browse the surrounding shops.  “Hey, ah...Dan, I’ll be here looking at,” it was a lingerie shop, “...yeah.” 

“Alright.”  Dan, too occupied with Jones’ antics, drifted off to the crowd without batting an eye.  

 

“So, what’s your name?” Vince pulled in Jones to the filming area for an interview--he loved the little plastic toys hanging off of this teen. 

“Jones!”

“Hi, Jones.  So what’s your inspiration here?  Looks like you got lots hangin’ off you.”

“Yeh.  Just bits and bobs I found in thrift shops.”  He tugged at the barbie head and a little, fluffy pony keychain.

“Wow, you got a doll head on your hair--that’s mental.”

“I like to take’em out for a walk sometimes!”

“How about that!  Thanks, Jones.  We’ll be back after the break!”

 

* * *

 

“Happy?” Dan asked, already tired from Jone’s antics.

“Totally!  He signed my shirt!”  Jones pulled at the t-shirt.

“Lovely.  Shall we get on?”

“Alright!”

The group went into TopShop.  Howard walked by a clothing rack and, suddenly, he was pulled into a spot between mirrored wall and a mannequin.

“Woah, there!  Excuse me!” Howard was ready to give them a what for. 

“Shh!  It’s me Howard, keep your voice down!” The raven haired star was about to smack the northerner.

“Oh!  Oh, it’s you.”

“Yeah.  By the way, if you thought you can pretend not to see me, you’re dead wrong!”  Vince chastised Howard; he was quite offended when the tall man rushed away from the filming area.  

“What...whatd’you want?”  Howard really wanted to pretend he didn’t see the telly star.  He hated the awkward, unscheduled second encounters in public.

“Ah.  _Well_...”  When Vince spotted Howard, he followed him without thinking what he was going to say. “Are you still looking for clients?” Then added, “‘cos a...mate of mine’s interested.” 

“Oh, yeah.  I haven’t had good luck so far. But, please don’t refer anyone psychotic.”  The northerner had enough of that. 

“No.  He...’s a decent bloke.” The TV host looked around. “You do take male clients?”

“At this point, I’ll take anyone who’s not on a verge of a breakdown.”  The newbie dom was about to have one the last few weeks. 

“Good.  Gimme your number.”

“Sure. Um...tell him to text ‘trombone’ so I know it’s a legitimate client.”

“? Tron, wot?”

“Trom-boh-n.  T, R, O, M, B, O, N, E.”

“Dad?”  The two men jumped up when Dan appeared out of nowhere. 

“I need mone...y.”  Dan stared at Vince, wide eyed.

“Well, thanks for your help! Cheers!”  Vince swiftly exited the store.

“Was that Vince Noir?” Dan asked.

“Ah...yup.  I was...giving directions.”

“He doesn’t have a driver?”

“...to the toilets.”

“Ok...” Dan gazed suspiciously.

“...”

“ _Money_ , dad.”

“Right.”

 

A new trainer, two sweats and a dinner for three later, Howard and his wards made the trip back home.  That night, Howard picked up the vibrating work mobile.  There was a text from an unknown number.  He unlocked the phone to see the sender.

_Trombone_

 

* * *

 

Howard and his new client, whom he referred to as Mr. Trombone, exchanged a number of messages over the course of the next day.  The newbie dom prided himself in the thoroughness of the admin for his practice.  He believed in meticulous contracts that led to a safe, fun experience.  Also, the last two clients proved the importance of legal protection when things went haywire.  

Mr. Trombone, as Howard affectionately called him, was wanting a long-term contract (6 months to a year), with multiple role play scenarios package, a soft play, D/s--but with caveat that they will switch depending on the role play scenario.  The play scenarios on his wish list included: Pony play, variations of gallant and maiden in distress role plays, simulated rape, age play, Dd/lb or Cg/l--sexual or non-sexual--Mr. Trombone was not sure at this point.

When the time came for them to meet and exchange signature, Howard suggested a public place.  The new client was hesitant at first--being Vince’s friend, perhaps he was a celebrity as well--but Howard assured him that the place he chose was very private.  They set up an appointment to finish the admin on the coming Saturday at the Stoke-Newington Jazz Club.

 

* * *

 

Howard arrived at the club at quarter past eight.  He was a bit early but he loved this establishment, so he took a seat in the leather booths, in the blind spot behind a row of cheese plants.  He worried that the new client may not be able to see him at first, but he aired on the safe side and remained.  He’d taken a sip of his whiskey when he heard a clicking sound of heels on the hardwood floor approaching. He looked up and there stood a person donning dark glasses, a sparkly bandanna over the nose and mouth, a floppy hat, and a black cape.  

“Trombone?” A muffled voice from this stranger.

“Trombone.”  Howard answered.

“Genius!”  The man sits across from Howard.  Howard does a double take at the phrase. 

“Vince?”

“Hey ‘Oward.”  The telly star lifts up his shades and lowers his bandana.  He’s grinning like a naughty boy, his eyes brighter than it should be in this dim club light.  

“Good grief...you...”  Howard did not know how to start.  He figured Mr. Trombone was a celebrity, but he was not expecting Vince--he never showed any interest in him when they met, other than bemusement over Howard’s fashion and the scene.  

“Why?”

Vince looked wide eyed at the question, then looked around nervously. “I’m gonna need a drink before we talk.”

 

* * *

 

Howard got up to get him a drink.  A flirtini.  

“Here you be.”  The glass clinked on the table, and Vince took a big slurp from the colorful straw.  

“Mm.”

“So?”

“How cute is your son?  That was your son, right?”

Howard sprayed his drink all over the table and coughed violently until he caught his breath.  The northerner glared at Vince. 

“Don’t you dare touch my son, you pervert!  He’s sixteen, you understand?”

“Of course not, ya berk!  Whatd’ya take me for? I’m just imagining you as a teenager in uniforms.”

“That’s not any better.”

“It is!  I’m imagining me as a teen as well--I wonder if I would’ve fancied you if I’d met you then.”

“Ahem.  I _was_ a heartthrob” Howard confessed.

“Really?  You don’t strike me as such.  I can see you growing a mocha stain and being bullied.  Getting stuffed in a janitor’s closet.  I wouldn’t hang out with you at school, probably.”

“Wow, thank you for not stopping the bullying, even in your imagination.  You are a class act.”

“Oh, come off it!  It’s a role play!  I like imagining things like that.” Then, added, “I think I would’ve come back to help you out, though.  You know, when my mates aren’t looking.”

“That’s very touching.”

“Yeah.”  Vince gazed at the air, relishing, be it fictional, a good deed done.  “Then, we’d get friendly-like after that, you know?--in secret, of course.  Then, one day, you’d confess your love to me.”

“ _Really_?” Is it possible for one person to have this big an ego?  Howard mused.

“Then, I’d become a big star after high school; leaving you to whatever dusty life you led.  You’d watch my shows, and go to newsagents when I’m on the trash mags--which would be every day--and pine for me.”

“Wow, even Shakespeare couldn’t have written a play so tragic.”

“I know.  I am a gift to this world.”

Howard realized his question was completely deflected.  He’s the dom, and he needed to take charge, yes, sir!

“So?  Back to what I asked first--why?”

Vince rolled his eyes.  “Do you always ask your clients that? ‘Cos that’s well unprofessional.”  

“N--No...I just wondered if this was a...prank.  You didn’t seem interested in me or the scene when we met.”  

Vince seemed convinced by this; he cupped his glass and stared at it for a moment, then he gazed at Howard. 

“Everybody’s got secrets, Howard.  I can’t be seen soliciting a professional dom when there’s million cameras around me.”

“Even at a kink club opening?”

“Even then.”

Howard sat back.  It was understandable, but this shiny starlet seemed so far away from unorthodox sex acts--even after hearing it from the horse’s mouth, he still couldn’t believe it.  There was something very not sexual, or kinky, about this young man.  It was hard to imagine him in that context.  He blushed and shook those thoughts out of his head. 

Why, though?  It would be very helpful to develop a little lust-filled fantasy.  If you weren’t attracted to the client in any way, it would be a very difficult business relationship--regardless of how much he was getting paid. 

“All right, makes sense.” Howard left it at that.

 

The night went on with congenial chats and planning for the next meeting.  When Howard tried to wrap things up, Vince would say something and they’d end up discussing absurd and useless topics.  Howard was secretly glad that he had a client that didn’t carry a gun and/or was insane.  And to tell the truth, Vince was charming.  He felt uncomfortable admitting to himself that he’d found this man, albeit an androgynous man, quite attractive...  He blamed this on low lighting and seductive jazz music, and locked it up in a janitor’s closet in the corner of his brain.

“So, would next Saturday and Sunday work?” Vince asked.

“What?  Oh, yes.”

Vince beamed at Howard--he looked so young when he did that.  He didn’t know anyone could smile so genuinely.

Vince paid the bill and the two men parted ways.

  ****

* * *

 

The middle aged dom met Vince at his posh house.  The older man was told to dress as an exterminator to avoid paparazzi’s attention.  He put on a brown onesie with fake logo and a cap--he wore glasses on top of it, just to be safe.  Sure enough, he spotted few men with cameras, but they scattered the instant they had seen the logo.  

The door unlocked automatically after pressing the intercom.  Howard quickly crossed the threshold and shut the door.  

“Hey, Howard.”

“Alright?”

“Come in.”  Vince led Howard into the kitchen and gestured to sit at the dining table. 

“Make yourself comfortable. Do you want tea?”  

“Thanks." 

“Did those nobs give you any trouble?”

“No.  They just thought I was an exterminator.”

“Good.”

 

As they both sat to take a sip of tea, Vince took in what Howard was wearing.  He didn’t care for the onesie or the cap, but the dark horn-rimmed glasses looked so good on him.  He looked like a uni professor.  Maybe he _is_ a professor...or a supply teacher.  A supply teacher for a geography class--that’s more like it.  Who knew what people did for a day job.  Vince smiled, thinking about what Howard’s lessons would be like.  He’d bet it would be quite boring...Howard would talk too much and over explain topics that’s never gonna be on the test.

“What are you smiling about?”  Howard had that quizzical expression and, in those glasses, Vince felt the room temperature go up a few degrees.  

“Nothin’.  Just remembered’ stuff that happened at work.”

“Hm.”  Howard took a thoughtful sip, but appeared content with the answer.

“Well...shall we go over the contract, then?”  Vince changed the subject.

 

“I want to be called Prince.”  Vince spoke thoughtfully, twirling his hair and cocking his head to the side.   

“I thought about this a lot and I think that makes me feel best.  ‘Oh, my Prince,’ ‘your highness’--and that.”

“What do you want to call me then?” Howard asked, simultaneously anticipatory and hesitant.

“I think you’re gonna be my servant _and_ a loyal steed.”

“That’s going to be extra, young man.”

“S’fine.  What do you like to be called?  If you had a say in it?”

“Well...I don’t know.”

“Come on, you gotta have thought about this!  Did you want to be called daddy? Or big man? Papa Moon? Captain? Master?”

“Hush your lips.  I shall refrain from this topic as I am a hired man.”

“...Your Jazzyness?” 

Howard got a twitch in his groin.  “Can we _please_ move on?” He makes an effort to sound stern, but instead it comes out wobbly.

“Oooh! You like that, don’t you, you freak!” 

The jazz daddy glared at Vince but the younger man didn’t find this intimidating, as he was redder than a tomato.  

“Excuse me, but _I’m_ not the one here to be teased, little man.   That is what _you_ are asking for!” 

“Actually, I’m not.  I kinda want this to be 50/50, like when I texted you.  I want to tease and be teased.”

“R-right.”

“That’s what I want, really.  Sometimes I want to sub, but sometimes I want to dom.  Sometimes I wanna top, sometimes I want to bottom.  Is that a problem?”

“ _...No_.  It’s not.” Of course Howard Moon can’t have simple, down to earth, straight up, traditional D/s dynamic.  NOOO sir, things had to be difficult for Howard Moon, it always was.  With a grimace on his face, the northerner’s mind drifted into a slideshow of his other personal tragedies.   

Before the older man had enough time to contemplate quitting, Vince interjected.  “ _Of course_ , I’ll pay more...like you mentioned in the contract.”  Vince appeared a bit worried for the first time since they’d met.  Howard was taken aback by this admission, and could not find it in his heart to say no.  Plus, he needed the money.

“OK, Vince, what else?” Howard sighed.

 

 

“The safe word needs to be something that we wouldn’t say while at play. Or, it could be the colors of traffic lights.  Green is Go, Yellow is Slow Down, and Red is Stop.”

“Hm...Louie Armstrong?”

“That’s out of the question.  He is my hero and I will not let you soil him. Besides, I may, ahem, shout out his name if I get a bit excited.”

“Ew...I hope not! Write it in the contract that you are forbidden to say any names of old Jazzers!" He tapped on the tablet with his perfectly manicured nails.  "There’s so many things I might say, it's so hard...”

“How about your mother’s name?”

“How dare you!  First of all, I don’t know my mum.  Second of all, that is well gross!”  

Coming from a man who listed Dd/lb in his role play wish list--Howard sighed.

“Why don’t you settle on the traffic lights then?” Howard suggested, wanting to move things along.

“Yeah...I guess.  Can I change it if I change me mind?”

“Mid-play, no.  But we can certainly amend the contract -- but not frequently, because safe word isn’t something you want to get confused by when you’re tied up and getting spanked by me.”

“Fair enough,” then grinned and added, “You wanna spank me eh?”

“I’m assuming _you_ would want me to, considering the nature of my profession.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What’s this ‘Uh-huh’?” Howard looked at Vince suspiciously.

“Nothing.”  Vince looked away, pursing his lips to contain his smile.

 

* * *

 

Vince took Howard into the bathroom upstairs for the inspection.  Howard awkwardly unzipped his onesie, his vest and was about to take off his fake glasses when,  

“Keep that on.” Vince interjected.  

Howard stood in white y-fronts, glasses and socks.  

“The socks, Howard.” If left to his own devices, Howard would think there’s nothing wrong with being naked and in socks. 

Vince bit his lip and slowly observed the tall man before him.  He circled around once and tried really hard not to get too excited.  Howard was...what’s the word?  Flabby.  He had a dad bod.  He had wide shoulders, hunched at the neck, long arms and legs that wasn’t toned like models or actors would be, but you can tell he was in a good physical condition.  

“What was it that you did for a day job?” 

“...Why do you need to know?”

“No reason, just curious...” Vince trailed his fingertips from Howard’s round shoulder down to the calloused finger tips. 

“Do you play music?”

Howard flinched, went shifty eyed, then sighed.  “I’m a...a sessions musician.”   

“Aha...” Vince smirked and continued to observe the older man.  He must stay in shape to lug around musical instruments.  The torso was what really got Vince excited, though.  Howard had little man tits, very cute ones, and a bit of paunch normal for an Englishman in his forties--perhaps he was a beer drinker.  And those light pink, nubby nipples!  Those weren’t man’s nipples, Vince was pretty sure.  

“Are you done?” Howard asked, irritated.

“Nope.”

Howard grumbled.

Vince cupped Howard’s breasts, gently circled them, then softly kneaded them.  He felt so dizzy.  He just wanted to nibble and suckle on them to his heart’s content.  Vince looked into Howard’s eyes and grinned.  

“I like your body Howard.  You got a dad bod.”

“A dad bod? Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Yeah.  There’s loads of used-to-be-heart throb celebs getting caught on a beach with a paunch and man tits nowadays. It’s dead sexy.” 

“Huh.  You don’t need to tell me that I’m sexy, Vince.  Wouldn’t be doing this if I wasn’t.”

“Do you hear yourself old man?  People are swooning over former celebs, not a middle aged dom.”  

“I’ll have you know that my dad bod is an envy of my estate.  Women and gay men--sometimes curious scenesters, too--flock to worship my arsecrack when I do jazzercise on the roof.”

“Do they now?”

“They do. Yes, sir.  I have a pair of loose fitting sweats just for the occasion.  Besides, isn’t that why you seek my services, you tart?”

Vince giggled.  “Nah, I just like to remind meself how well I’m aging.”

“...Do you really?”

“No, you idiot! I keep you so can knead your man tits and nibble on your flabs.”

“Ahem.  That’s more like it.”

“I did say I liked it.”

“Hmm.”

“They’re so...soft...and fluffy.” At this, Howard tensed up, defining hidden muscles on pecs and arms

“Aw.  Don’t be so self conscious.  I wouldn’t have gone through with it if I didn’t find you attractive.”

“Well, most men don’t like hearing that their body’s soft and fluffy.”

“They’re your best features!  You just said yourself that people flocked to look at your bum!”  Vince gave a quick peck to the doughy mound of Howard’s breast.  The older man blushed.

The shiny young man licked his lips, oblivious that Howard noticed the gesture.  Vince stood in front of Howard and gently lowered his y-front.  In the bed of brown, grey and white curls, was a flaccid, peachy beige penis and sac.  He swallowed and quickly circled behind Howard, running a hand on the fleshy bum with fuzzy hair all over.  

“Umm...” Howard glances back at Vince. “Surely, this is enough.”

“No, I've got to get you hard.  No point in hirin’ an over the hill prozzy who can’t perform.”

“How rude can you get at this sensitive point in our business relationship?”

“Sorry.  I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.  I’m just sayin’ it would be disappointing to get all excited while playin’ and I end up givin’ you the mouth to cock.”

“Don’t you mean mouth to mouth?”

“No, mouth to cock.  So Little Howard can get excited.”

“How dare you, I am a virile forty-year-young man, with much history of sexual exploits under my belt.”

“I thought you only had two clients before me.” Vince felt a bit annoyed at this new information.

“Well, yes, but those two were, shall I say...crazy.  Crazy, kinky stuff went down at the Moon house during that time.  That period was...more educational than a year at Oxford and Cambridge combined.”  Howard clears his throat and shifts his shrew-like eyes side to side.

“We’ll see about that.” Vince rolled his eyes and cupped Howard’s balls, then slid that hand smoothly upwards, lifting the soft prick and feeling it twitch and engorge as he stroked it slowly.  “Hmm.  Good response.  I guess you are fit to do this,” he said with a smug grin.  That thing about Howard’s clients were irritating him more than it should--he felt like teasing the bugger.  

“Right, that’s the last insult that comes out of your mouth, young man.” Howard scolded.

“That’s really unconvincing with a hard on and pants around your ankles.”  Vince giggled.

“Shut it.”  Flustered and indignant, Howard quickly pulled up his pants and willed the treacherously jovial Little Howard to calm down.


	3. The Erotic Adventures of Vince the Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heroes try pony play and simulated rape(I mean...I hate to tone things down in the summary because I don't want to trigger anyone, but it's not as bad as it sounds? This is a parody of a comedy show with so much dubious content to begin with, so there's nothing atypical of Boosh in the spirit, at the least). Also, this chapter features: Hurt/Comfort, older male/father figure obsession, BDSM, Princess Diana(RIP), and anal sex. Wow, too much.  
> We also get to take a peek into Vince's noggin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo...I may have made a few mistakes in this chapter. One of which is the nature of a professional dom? Like, I just recently learned that most pro doms don't do sex or penetration? So please don't believe anything in this story--after all, it is a piece of fiction and DOES NOT REPRESENT the BDSM practices in real life or represent anything in real life at all. It is a work of parody and an attempt to make a satisfying smut.  
> Enjoy<333

 Howard stood before the bathroom mirror while he held a rainbow ponytail anal plug in one hand.  This is a job, he told himself.  If he was a horse, Howard mused, he imagined himself to be a noble steed with a luscious, dark mane, a muscular body and a gentle gaze.  A shire horse.  Not a prancing candy-coloured pony with matching feather crown.  But, a job is a job is a job.  He lubed up the offending item and gently inserted it in his arse.

“Oof.  That’s cold.”

* * *

“Howard!  You ready?”

“Yeah, yeah.”  The older man lumbered out of the hotel bathroom.  

“Wow!  You look great!”  Vince was wide eyed, a mouth half open with a corner bit quirked up. 

“Really?” The term ‘great’ must have an entirely different meaning in Vince’s mind, because Howard did not look ‘great.’ Howard looked like a Christmas ham with rainbow chard trimmings.  Howard looked better with the oily acne face, patchy mustache and a tweed ensemble he sported as a 16 year old.  Not that there’s anything wrong with a tweed ensemble, of course.  

“You look so...good.” 

The ‘good’ held much more lecherous intonation than the ‘great.’  The ‘good’ sounded like Vince was just so hungry for Howard, he might just devour him.

Vince knitted his brows and cocked his head.  

“Is that so odd? That I find you sexy?”

For the first time in his life, Howard Moon felt oddly exuberant in a sexual situation, because sex was a stressful affair for the socially awkward, late bloomer.  Howard wasn’t even sure how Dan came to exist -- he was blind drunk when that happened.     

“N...No...” It was a squeaky reply, but Vince did not seem turned off.  He beckoned lovingly.  

“Com’ere my steed.”

Vince gently wrapped his arms around Howard and rubbed his cheek to the neck, then the shoulder and the chest.  Vince looked up and smiled softly.  

“You are the most beautiful horse I’ve ever seen; your body is so big and beautiful.  Your eyes are inviting like a warm soup in a winter’s day -- I want to cuddle inside it.  You will be mine and mine alone, and I will be yours and yours alone.” 

Vince finished his recital with a conceited panache.  Yet, there was something extremely sincere in his voice which managed to melt Howard’s heart.  The steed let out a whimper-y neigh.  The Prince took the reins and led his new steed to the bed, coaxing it to lie down with him.

“Good boy.  Would you like an apple?” 

Howard did not necessarily want an apple, he was hungry for a roast beef sandwich, but he nodded.  Vince took out the fruit and held it up to his mouth.  The nectar gushed out as he bit in, and dribbled down Vince’s arm.  Howard stopped biting, ready to get something to wipe it up.  Then, the Prince held the dripping arm up to his horse and asked him to lick it.  Howard looked at Vince for a moment, then obliged.  This is it.  First ever sexual contact (the first two clients did not count in his book as he felt very much traumatized) Howard Moon has initiated in sixteen years.  Yes, that’s right.  Howard Moon hadn’t even kissed, or licked someone’s arm, in sixteen years.  

Smooth strokes of Howard’s tongue and soft bristle of the beard tickled Vince, a thousand butterflies fluttered through his body.

“Mm.  Such a sweet boy.” 

The Prince delicately nudged his steed’s lips with his fingers, entering its cavern.  Howard wrapped his lips and sucked on the tender digits, caressing them with his tongue.  Howard let out a deep breath through his nostrils and closed his eyes.  He can taste the apple and salt of the skin.  He can feel the tension building.    

“Nmph,” Vince let out a whimper and cradled Howard’s head towards him, bringing their bodies together and reclining back.  Vince held back the urge to crush his mouth with Howard’s, and just softly pecked at the steed’s lips; tasting and retreating, enticing Howard with every contact.  The Prince was luring his stallion to come closer, and seek out his reward.  

“Steady, my steed!  I haven’t ridden you, yet.” 

It took Howard a minute to comprehend the meaning.  

“Come on.” Vince slid off the bed with the rein in his hand.  Howard followed, then took a hint from Vince’s raised brow, and went on all fours.  

“Good boy.”  Vince straddled on Howard’s saddle with regality and gently tapped to walk.  Howard, though a tall man with a plenty of musculature, struggled to walk on fours with a grown man sitting on his back.  

Vince felt his hips rock with the movement and gentle sway of Howard’s back rubbing his sac and sensitive bottom.  He just wanted to ride on Howard and pretend he was a horse, but this was so different and eye-opening.

“Er...Vince?” 

“...”

“V...Vince?”

“...”

“Vince!”

“Horses don’t talk.”  Vince snapped, annoyed at Howard breaking the mood.

“I don’t think I can bear your weight.” 

“How dare you!” 

“No.  I’m saying that you are a grown man.  Even with my husky northern build, the human body isn’t meant to carry a load on all fours.” 

“Oh, bollocks...!” 

Howard searched for an alternative to appease his client, “I can do a piggy back, if you want.” 

“All right.” The Prince wasn’t sure if he could get the same kind of stimulation on piggy back, but he decided to try.  Howard was, unabashedly, trying hard to please, and that felt good. 

“Ya! Ya!” Vince whipped his crop on Howard’s thigh.  The stallion hopped with each whipping, (in a genuine pain disguised as a superb mimicry of equestrian behavior) jumping on the bed, descending on the floor, and galloping around the hotel room.  

“Woah, woah!” Vince tightened the reins and squeezed Howard’s thighs with his feet, cueing him to stop.  Howard neighed and looked back at Vince.  The Prince signaled and stepped down to the floor.  

“That was amazin’ Howard!” Remembering that horses didn’t talk, Howard forced a smile and rubbed the thoroughly whipped right buttock.

However, Vince didn’t feel the same: his cock was getting a nice attention, but his secret-feely-good-place wasn’t.  “Howard?  Can we try something else?”  Vince was on a mission to find the perfect position.  

“Er...sure?” 

“Can you kneel on the bed on all fours?”

“I -- Vince that’s what I did earlier.”

“No, listen to me -- but on your elbows and get down real low.”

“Oh...?” Howard did as he was told.  He prayed to the gods of whoredom that Vince knew what he was doing. 

“Genius." Vince beamed and straddled the northern steed, this time he supported his weight on his knees and gently brushed his perineum. The Prince smiled at the sensation, and rested his bum on Howard’s cool, wide back.  “Mmm,” He sighed and asked: “Can you rock your body a bit?  Back and forth, so it feels like moving?”

Howard began the motion slowly, which created a wide rocking movement.  He felt warmth and sweat from Vince’s plush buttocks.  

“S’nice, my stallion.” He gently swayed himself with the horse, allowing himself to grind on Howard’s back as he sought out that delicious feeling.  “Ha...s’so good...”  Vince kneaded his cock and sac against steed’s back, adding to the sensations already running up his spine.         

“There is a spring near by, I’m going to give you a bath as a reward.”  

Vince took thebody straps and saddle off of Howard, his hands instinctively caressed the pink imprints left by the gear.  He led the steed to the jacuzzi and began to sponge him.  “Isn’t this wonderful, my lovely stallion?”  Howard surrendered to the role playing and nodded--releasing a shaky whimper.  The Prince massaged Howard gently all over his body with a soapy brush.  “Mmmm....Oooh that’s good...” Howard flinched and looked at Vince, but the beautiful Prince just chuckled and let it go. 

“There is a patch of open grass amongst the woods, let’s get you dried.”

Vince laid Howard on the bed, prone, and began to groom his body with what looked like a horse brush with the most softest bristles.  All he knew, it could well have been made of gossamer.   

“How does that feel?”  Howard let out a deep sigh -- he’d never felt so pampered in his life.  Truly, he felt guilty getting paid to do this.  The Prince began grooming from Howard’s face, brushing away from temples to the head, cheeks to over the ears. 

The Prince groomed his steed's chin, down to the neck and the collarbone.  The arms, forearms especially, were rubbed repeatedly -- it was so soothing, Howard almost fell asleep.  The Prince took the grooming brush to the hipbones and then to the groin.  The half mast on Howard came to full attention after his master carefully, affectionately ministered a thorough brushing.  Howard bucked his hips and spread his legs without thinking -- keen to have more stimulation between the base of his leaking shaft to his rim.  

“My poor boy, would you like a release?”  Howard moaned and nodded furiously.  Vince tapped on his side to get him on his knees.  

Howard’s mind suddenly focused on the situation at hand.  That apple cheeked little boy from Leeds would never have imagined such future for himself.  To think, the guy giving it to him was a celebrity!  Not an old celebrity like Louie Walsh or Stephen Fry, a young, hip, and sexy celebrity -- liked by actual young-ins!  It was so strange that he wanted Howard of all people.  He really could have had anybody... 

Howard thought back to the lessons from Tony Harrison -- Howard, relax your bum, don’t clench, and use the force... Tony’s husky nasal voice was replaced with one much softer and younger, but eerily similar.  

“Relax, Howard.  Your bum hole’s tighter than a baby clam.”  

“I’m really nervous.  My first few times were...traumatic...”  His second client Greggory was not a tender lover.

“I know, but...is it red?” Vince asked, worried look in his eyes.

“...”  Howard did not want to do that.  There was genuine air of concern in Vince’s voice, and he was the first client that was sane (relatively speaking) and dare say...very attractive, and he paid a lot of money for Howard to do this.  

“No! It’s green, sir!” Howard stuck his bottom out and thought of Queen and country.  

Giving his prick a few quick stokes, Vince applied the condom and smeared his shaft with generous amount of lube.  Then he cued the steed to lift his big, sturdy, fuzzy bottom.

“Oh, lord, you’re so hot.”  Vince gently removed the horsetail plug, Howard whimpered at the delightful sensation.  The Prince prepared the steed with generous amount of lubricant and aligned his engorged cock to Howard’s pucker, buried between the full cheeks.   

“Good boy, your master will take good care of you.” The Prince kissed Howard’s shoulder blade, and gently entered him.

* * *

The comfortable silence after the first session was suddenly broken by Howard’s mobile alarm.  

“That’ll be the time!” Howard sprung up from the post coital laze.

He frantically looked for the divested clothes and scrambled into them.  

“...Right.” Vince gaped at the frantic display, and suddenly felt the temperature drop around him.  

“I’ll see you this Friday, then?” Howard looked at Vince, but did not make an eye contact.  

“Yeah, ah...thanks.” 

“No, thank you.  Er...for your patronage.”  Shrimpy eyes shifted from side to side, Howard mumbled and blushed. “See you then.” 

The older man crossed hurriedly to the door, guiltily glanced back at his still unclothed client, and exited.  

Vince let out a heavy sigh; the elation he felt just moments ago had quickly faded, leaving him with...what was it?  Loneliness?  

“Right.”  Vince shook off the foreboding feeling and called his driver.

* * *

For the next two weeks, Vince had a special telly shoot and was away in Wales.  Howard did not take clients in the meantime, as Vince had requested them possibly having phone sex and had paid him upfront for the two weeks.  Even without that, Howard was getting paid quite a sum of money, he could quit his day gigs and live comfortably for the rest of the year.  

And, perhaps, he would have, had he been young and single.  With Dan approaching university age, he wanted to contribute to his education, making up for the times he couldn’t provide anything decent for the lad.  

So, Howard spent his days subbing for no-shows, and evenings gigging at this club or that.  There was a moment, on a particular Friday, when he felt his step bounce, like in his youth, and an oddly jovial, almost fizzy, mood settled in his chest.  He knew that the feeling was familiar, but hadn’t felt it in a long, long time.  Howard didn’t think too deeply, but he just enjoyed it, and credited the daily jazzercise for a transient burst of dopamine.

* * *

For Vince, the day to day was much more difficult.  He’d found himself being irritable, to the point where his agent resorted to pulling him aside during a shoot and having a talk with him to regroup.  This change in his behavior was puzzling for Saboo, who’d known Vince for a few years now, quite intimately, and was secretly glad to be his representative.  

Saboo did not suffer fools, and though Vince was quite a foolish lad, he had the most amicable personality.  Plus, there was this gullibility that Saboo had found difficult to dislike.  He was like a puppy, and Saboo was a dog person.  

And, above all, Vince was a winner.  He was a diamond.  A star.  The sun that gives life to all creatures.  He’d always had a keen eye to spot a talent...the next money makers and ground breakers -- Vince was both.  Thus, the starlet’s problematic mood swings meant crunch time.

“Vince, what’s getting you so tetchy?  You’re making your co-stars and techs your haters. And Vince Noir never has any haters.  Take a calcium tablet, you plum.”

“Get lost!  Who are you to tell me that I’m tetchy!  You’re the king of tetchy!  You go eat your fucking tablet!”  

“No, you eat it!  Better yet, what’s eating you?  As your agent, I demand an answer, or else.”

“What!  Don’t be ridiculous!  You can’t demand anything from me, you twat!  And what are you gonna do?  Fire me?”

“I’ll call Bryan.”

“You bastard!  Don’t you dare!”

“Bryan was very clear about how to handle your misbehaviors.”

“Sod off!”  He threw a water bottle and stomped to the corner of the trailer.  He stewed there for a minute, then slowly looked back. “...Don’t call Bryan.  I’m just a bit...frustrated.”

Saboo sat on a chair and crossed his legs. “Go on.”

Vince rolled his eyes and harrumphed.  “Jesus...can’t believe I’m telling you this...”  He blushed and chewed on his thumb nervously. “I just haven’t gotten laid...in a few days.”

Saboo’s eyes widened in an unenthusiastic amusement. “ _Okay_.”  

Vince threw his hands and shook his head. “Okay? I know that it’s okay!”  He couldn’t work up the courage to tell Saboo that he was seeing a male dom, and he couldn’t keep their last encounter out of his head.  He’d finally found someone that he felt safe with.  

But they'd only talked a lot more than they had sex, and that was eating him up.  

There was no privacy, or the time, for the first three days of the shoot, four, if you included the trip down to the location, to have had a proper phone sex with Howard.  

“Vince, I don’t ever want to talk about your sex life, or mine, so I’ll get you an early day and I expect you to sort yourself out.”

He regarded Vince for a moment with an analytical look and exited the trailer. 

* * *

It was around 5 p.m. that Howard received a text to reserve a time for a ‘nite o bummin.’  His heart did a somersault. 

He finished his dinner early and took a quick shower...then realized it was over the phone.  Then, he realized it might be a video call, so he, ahem, douched...just in case.  Also made himself trim his scraggly beard and wayward nose and ear hairs...in case there’s going to be a close up.  

By the time he’d done all that, he was quite exhausted.  This profession had taught him how women must feel whenever they had a big date -- of course, they probably wouldn’t douche their bum...or, would they?  As Howard’s mind trailed off, his smartphone vibrated.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Howard!!”  Vince sounded giddy and shy. “How you been?”

“Good.  Very good!  Erm...yeah. How is the shoot going?”

“Howard!  We’re gonna be having a phone bummin’!  Who cares how it was!” He cackled.  

“Right.” He felt warmth creep up his ears.  

“What’re you wearing? Oh, never mind, switch to video call!” Howard fumbled through the keys and then saw the starlet on a small screen.  His chest felt fizzy again.

“Alright?” Vince preened as if in a mirror, grinning wide, tilting his head down.  He’d heard his son talking about Jones doing that in his selfies....apparently to make himself look more attractive.  He thought Vince didn’t need to do that.

“Oi?  Are you in there?” Howard snapped out of that thought.  “Yeah...here I am...” he wiggled his bottom, a bit nervous after a few days break.  After that awkward post coital parting.  He thought Vince might be too, but he didn’t seem put-out.  It could all be in his head -- 

Then, Vince said, “Let’s play Truth or Dare.”

* * *

“Truth. When did you lose your virginity?”

“Easy, twenty-four!”

“Wot?”

“It’s not that surprising.  I never caved to the raging hormones of my youth.”

“Wow...don’t tell me that’s when you had your kid.”

“Uh-uh, little man, my turn.  Let’s see...Truth.  When did you lose your virginity?”

“That’s not original.”

“Originality isn’t part of this game, now spill.”

Vince thought about this for a minute.  “Pass...dare me.”

“Alright...take your top off.”

“Oooh...finally getting sexy.” He slipped out of his fluffy dress shirt, revealing the gorgeous skin that he remembered from few days ago.  “Ahem...your turn,” Howard blushed and prompted.  

“What were you thinking when you left our session last time?”

“What...Nothing.  Just catching the train...and that.”  He shifted uncomfortably.

“No way that’s what you were thinking.  Was it --”

Vince looked down, hesitant.  “Was it...not nice?  Like...were you freaked out by it?”

Oh.

“I’m a professional dom, Vince...sexy stuff is my forte.”

“Well...it didn’t seem like it.”

“No.  I wasn’t freaked out.”

“Alright.”

“What were you thinking?”

“Howard!”

“Well?”

“I just felt a bit...sad.  Lonely or, something.  Empty, I guess.”

“Truly?”

“Yeah.”

“...May I ask why?”

“...”

Howard’s chest felt a tonne heavier every time Vince looked down; he looked like a child trying to tell a terrible secret.

“It’s not important.”  Vince replied.

“I want you to feel better after our session...why have you hired me if it doesn’t?”

“I guess I just had a low from an adrenalin rush...or something.”

The topless starlet’s shoulder looked so small and fragile.

“Enough on this topic, yeah?  My turn now.  Are you into guys or girls?”

“Girls.  I mean, women.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Huh.”

“Why the ‘huh’?”

“You seemed pretty into it, when we were having sex.”

“That’s how professional I am.”

“Ha!  So you weren’t enjoying it!” 

“Vince, the stuff we do should have nothing to do with my sexuality.  Well, maybe a little bit -- initially I was hoping for more female clients, but -- anyways, I did enjoy...ah...the session with you.”  Probably more than I should, Howard added internally.

“Huh...” Vince stared at Howard thoughtfully.

“We can’t always have what we want, can we?”

“I do.”

“Well, good for you, but most people aren’t as lucky as Vince Freaking Noir.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty lucky.”  Vince beamed.

The phone conversation continued very innocently until, on a fifth dare, Howard dared Vince to use a dildo.  It was one of those with suction cup on the end -- a game of hide the pickle was now in order.

Vince secured his phone to the headboard of his bed and placed enough pillows to angle his bum within the camera frame.  He brought a box full of lube, asking Howard which flavor, and getting scolded that he couldn't smell them.  Vince remembered a story from few years back, about a company that developed scent dispenser attached to a phone; he wondered when that was coming out.  

"Honestly, I'm quite fine with not smelling your arse through the phone."  Was Howard's contribution.

"Mmmm...it’s lemon meringue.  Shame."  He stretched himself and lubed up the dildo.  He told Howard to pay attention, adding that the dildo was the same size as Howard.  It was a mystery considering they’d only had two meetings(where Howard was nude), and Howard did not see a ruler on either of those occasions.

"Mmm...ah...so big, Howard...bigger than I remember."

"...Oh, yeah?" His mouth quirked up -- a bit proud and feeling good about the compliment.  He handled the head of his own cock with some slick, just where it had disappeared inside Vince's pucker. He let out a deep moan.  "Yes, sir..."

* * *

"Hey..."

"Hi..."

Vince was the first to grin, like a maniac, brushing away a sweaty fringe and looking into the phone with remnants of cum still on his stomach.  A sheen of sweat added a glow to the starlet's skin and his eyes sparkled like marbles in the LED glow from his phone.  He smiled, and with what looked like a loving gaze, said, "That felt so good Howard...Thanks."

"You're welcome, Vince."

"I hope we can do it again tomorrow."

"Yes.  I hope so too."

"I gotta go to bed now.  Early day tomorrow...so...bye." He then closed his eyes and kissed the lens.  His soft pink lips and angular nose -- a funnily angelic face -- filling up Howard's screen.  The northerner did not have two thoughts before he kissed back the blurred image of his client.  

"Night, Vince."

* * *

“ _The Erotic Adventures of Vince the Prince_...Vince, did you lift this off of porn?”

“...No. ‘S my script.  I wrote it.”

“Somehow that’s worse.”

“Never mind where it came from!  I hope you got it memorized!”

“More than I care to, I assure you.”

 Vince was strapped to a restraint, naked except for a shiny cape that looked to be made for a production of _Joseph and The Technicolor Dream Coat_ \-- ‘I nicked it when I played Joseph last year for the Christmas Special.’

Vince had come up with the idea of purchasing a proper restraint -- ‘for that medieval fantasy feel, yeah?’ -- Howard had nothing to say, it was Vince’s money and he was getting paid to provide a service.  Except, this was extremely arousing to Howard.  Why, you ask? Let me explain, sir.

Howard, being a down trodden, and misunderstood, introvert from Leeds, always had a complex about inter-relational power dynamic.  To put it bluntly, Howard had a very sadistic streak created by the incessant feeling of being wronged by the society.  He, of course, was delusional.  It did not help that his dad had a very high expectations of him and this awkward man, who’d reached the middle age at pubescence, was never in a short supply of taunting and bullying.  He would find an absolute control over someone in the upper echelon of the social strata to be terribly invigorating...psychologically and sexually.  But, he was not a naturally violent man, so, everything considered, being a pro-Dom was quite suited for this particular northerner.    

Howard, the Evil King Jazzy Moon of Jazz Kingdom and Vince’s Electro Kingdom was once quite neighborly.  Until Vince’s ruckus 24 hour parades started to get on Howard’s nerves and a war broke out.  King Jazzy Moon had captured the rival Electro Prince, and locked him in the dungeon.  He was going to torture the beautiful **^(and annoying)** , Prince and break the spirit of his subjects... 

"Hey, did you scribble in my script?" Vince questioned.

"It’s just a teeny addition, get in to position, you tit."   

“Well, well, well...Electro Ponce, as I live and breathe...it wasn’t easy catching you...you sneaky tart!”  Vince flinched at a crack of Howard’s whip.

“Let me go you freak!  I told you I was sorry!”

“Sorry won’t cut it, you idiot!  I’m going to need a gesture...” He opens a case, “...a sexy...gesture.”  He raised his brow like a cheesy porn star, held up a trombone and licked it seductively.

“No...not the trombone!”

“Yes.  The trombone!”

Howard rubbed it on Electro Prince’s face, until he broke out in hives.

“No! Stop, please!”

“You like it don’t you, you little minx!”

“Agh! As if, you jazzy freak! Stop it! My face will blow up!”

“NO ONE escapes from Jazz King’s trombone!”

* * *

Vince was panting, flushed from the jazz grime that’s rubbed on to his skin.  Howard was sweating; making Vince say no, and pushing his envelope, was quite hot. 

“Next...I’m going to use a special instrument that I’ve invented...a jazz flute!”

“That’s just a flute.”

“...No, its a jazz flute!”

“You’re insane.”

“There’s no hope for you, Electro Prince, once I insert this jazz flute, you’ll be my jazzy sex slave for life!”

“No!  Get away from me!”

“Mwahahaha...ha...Vince! Don’t clench your butt!”

“To be honest Howard, I’m actually scared.”

“It’s a lot thinner than little Howard”

“I know! But it’s got hard bumps and all that.”

“It shouldn’t hurt as long as you’re relaxed”

“I can’t relax, I’m keyed up, all right? All this jazz business is givin’ me a panic attack!”

“Alright, alright, ” Howard decided to improvise. “Perhaps...uh...I should...umm...” 

Howard slipped his hand down Vince’s crack and began to massage the wound up muscle.  

“M...nm..hah...” Vince let out a cracked whimper.  Encouraged, Howard cooed. “That’s a good Prince...My Jazzy Prince...”

“Mhm.”  The Electro Prince ground his hips to Howard’s mind numbing ministrations, the inflammatory j-word slipped by unnoticed. “M..ready”

“Are you now?

“...yeah...” Voice so husky, it was barely audible.

“But, are you really, really ready?

“Y--yes Howard...”

“I don’t think my name is Howard.”

“Oh, please...my Jazzyness!”

“Do you surrender to my jazzy flag and forever submit yourself to my jazzy pleasures?” 

“Nnnmm, yes, my Jazzyness!  Please, hurry, you idiot!”

“Very well.” Howard lifted Vince’s hips, arched his back, and pressed in lubed up concert flute inch by inch, Vince letting out a high pitched noise as each key bumped into his soft bottom.  

“Oh, Lord...”  Gary Numan was at war with Louie Armstrong --Louie was winning, making the humiliating defeat so delectable. Vince didn’t care if he was stripped of his title.  Howard continued to gently insert the flute and pulled it out little by little, inserting some, and retrieving some, building a delicious tension, and each time getting closer to Vince’s prostate. 

“Oh, oh...a little to the left...”

“That’s right, good boy...beg your master.” 

Vince got a bit annoyed at that, but he obliged, letting himself completely at mercy of Howard.

“Please...your Jazziness, I need you.”

“You need me to what?” Howard was enjoying this.  This, this was what he wanted to do, not pretend to be a pet horse or be a slave...this is why he became a dom. 

“Gnmm.  I...”  Vince could’t bring himself to say it.  The mind numbing pleasures aside, he wanted to command Howard to fuck him, not beg him.  “My Jazziness, I implore you to end this misery and shame that’s brought upon me and to my people.  Please, I ask you to clear me of my conscience so all I can feel is you.”

That came out of the left field.  That was not in the script as far as Howard remembered.  How could this be so hot?  The way Vince begged -- but he wasn’t really begging, was he?  It didn’t feel like it.  It was a plea, an ardent request.  It was so dignified that Howard just couldn’t take it, it was like having sex with Princess Di, for fucks sakes.  It felt so wrong because you were her subject, but you couldn’t stop lusting after her because she was so gorgeous and affable and...Oh, to soil that which is regal!

Howard had never felt so small in his life.  He was the writhing puppy begging this regal creature to please touch him just once, just for a little bit.  Just so he had a token to keep safe in a little locked box, that he only took out once in a while, to remind himself why life was worth living.  

Christ, he’d been had.  The body that he thought he controlled was never his.  In an instant, the illusion of power had disappeared.  How did Vince do this?  

This was completely unfair. 

“Your Jazziness...?” Vince glanced back with concern. Howard snapped out of the mental trip and slowly nudged the area where Vince indicated.  “Ah, ah...! There, ah!  Nmm, so good...”  Howard felt around for Vince’s cock, and as he teasingly stroked it, retrieved the flute from his hole.  The Electro Prince moaned, face flushed and dewy eyed, looked back to make sure there was more to come.  

Howard prepped himself and rubbed his swollen member on Vince’s bud, arching the Prince’s body again for the correct angle.

“I want you...I’ve always wanted you since that...that night at the Jazz Ball.” Howard whispered into Vince’s ear, the tickling mustache and the warm breath caressing the small, round ears.  The Prince played along. 

“Hm...me, too.  I hated that ball, but I had fun with your mustache.  It was a wee little thing back then.” 

“Now it’s grown, like...I’ve grown.”  

Vince sniggered and Howard thrusted into Vince with all the ferocity he can muster.  Between heavy pants, Howard muttered angrily about being dumped and losing all his money.  Really, Vince didn’t care about the crazy jazzer's mutterings, and rocked his hips to the vigorous thrusts.   The ecstatic Prince was just barely able to vocalize a rhythmic “auh, auh, auh” as he reached orgasm. “...‘Oward...” Howard stroked Vince roughly, milking ejaculate to the last drop. 

“Now you’ll be...filled...with my jazz juice...and you’ll be...mmm...mine!  Ah!!”  Vince slumped, then Howard draped himself over him, too tired to stand.  

 _That_ was in the script.

* * *

“Oi, gerrof, ya big lug!”

“Hmm, sorry.  I was winded.”

Howard lazily straightened himself up and began to undo Vince’s restraints.

* * *

Their affair was bound with contracts and money, but Vince and Howard both felt a special something about the other.  And though Howard pruned this feelings each time, Vince allowed it to grow like a precious flower.  With every phone call and meeting, Vince was getting close to falling in love.  When he wasn't thinking about his work, he was constantly day dreaming about Howard. 

"Yeah, I met this guy.  He's a character.  He's like a geography teacher, and he loves Jazz...I know!  I hate jazz!  Right...ok, Bryan.  I love you too.  Say hi to Jahooli for me.  Bye."  

He'd never been in love before.  It was always flings and one night stands.  Vince Noir, in love.  Vince Noir, in love with a pro-Dom.  But they fucked purely on contractual basis.  The older man most likely did not feel the same way as Vince.  That would have been okay, at least in the beginning.  But with each session he wanted more and more.  

The idea of hiring a dom came to him after discovering the daddy and mummy fetish feature on the Cheekbone.  Normally, Vince would immerse himself in the trends and hop on to a different one when the old one passed.  But after reading about it, and meeting Howard at the opening, curiosity drove him to research more on the topic.  

He’d always been attracted to older guys.  Beginning with his middle school teacher, then his high school teacher, then his uni professor (with whom he had a brief affair), then his agent (only for the first few seconds before the prick opened his mouth).  The earliest crush was his adoptive father, Bryan.  He just idolized the man; those short while that he’d comeback from the tour and shower Vince with gifts and affection.  He wasn’t a great dad, on the account of not being around, but he was the world to Vince for a long time.   

He’d broken up with a fling the month before the premiere of his telly show.  The guy was getting a bit clingy.  Vince did not have time or affection to give -- he’d always wanted them from others.  So when he met Howard, and came across him again on the street, Vince was determined to pursue him.

At first, he thought the man was awful.  Then he realized he was quite handsome. Then he knew, he was funny and weird and warm and...He felt like he was the one.  That was a very new concept for Vince to get used to, since he didn’t believe in ‘the one.’  He believed in having lovers number one to hundred, and tasting each and different flavors.  He didn’t believe in it because he didn’t want to get hurt.  

Because when he loved Bryan, and he thought he was the one and only, he was only disappointed to know that he couldn't be the one.  Lose him because he was his dad--and lose him because Bryan's career was more important.  And lose him because Vince had grown up.

“What do you mean? Why can’t I live in the jungle anymore?”

“Vince, you’re coming to an age when a proper education becomes very important.  Since the last tutor left, I haven’t a luck to hire anyone who’s willing live so deep in the jungle.  And it is also good to experience the world filled with people, so you can learn how to get along with them, too.  I’m sorry, my boy, but I’m sending you to London.”

The transition was dramatic and traumatic.  However, Vince was an eternal optimist with a tremendous charisma; he soon found friends and foes just like he did in the jungle.  He also found himself living alone in Bryan’s London flat.  The nanny, Mrs. Gideon, was a comforting presence, and helped ease Vince’s loneliness.  She was like Jahooli, except she was bonier and less hairy.  Mrs. Gideon had no clue how to raise a human male offspring, but she did her best.  She allowed Vince to express himself freely -- she was a scientist at heart (a herpetologist to be exact) -- and much of her parenting and mentorship included free ranging Vince and quietly observing.  Mrs Gideon only disciplined Vince when he completely went out of line. 

Vince regained his bond with Bryan between uni and his break as a star.  Bryan continued to support him, but when Vince was making enough money, he pushed him towards more independence.  Perhaps, that was when Vince started to actively seek older lovers.            

But Vince never settled.  Because he knew it wouldn’t last.  Howard, on the other hand, was different.  Vince had realized that the money could make someone stay.  Howard was contractually obligated to Vince.  And as long as Vince didn’t upset him too much, Howard might, indeed, stay forever.  Vince always had the upper hand this way, and he could chuck Howard at anytime, but Howard couldn't.  Unless, of course, the northerner chose to go back to being poor...or...get back to his other, crazy, clients...or, grew to hate Vince.  All of which were unlikely if the starlet played his cards right.

He did not have any photos of Howard.  He thought about taking a screen shot of the last session over the phone, but decided not to.  Vince respected Howard's privacy and trusted him to do the same.    

He conjured Howard in his mind and thought about why he liked him so much.  There was this fierce sexual energy.  The way Howard took up space...the way he breathed, his creamy voice, the way he looked at Vince...the way he moved and held the starlet.

During one of the sessions, Vince was blindfolded and left in a bedroom for five hours.  Howard did not say anything for a whole minute while Vince questioned if it was him who walked through the door.  He was scared and exhilarated when Howard answered and held him in his arms.  Vince clung on to him, fear, affection and need for touch driving him wild.     

“There, there.  Did I scare you?”

“God! Don’t fucking do that again!”

Howard chuckled. “You liked it though, didn’t you? You liked the freaky vibes and the rush of adrenalin.”  

And he did too.  He loved being starved of touch and sight, then being held by Howard’s big, long arms -- that never held him crushingly, like his other lovers did.

 


End file.
